


The Cliffs of Delphi: Distractions

by GreyLiliy



Series: The Cliffs Of Delphi [11]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Victorian, F/F, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 03:57:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1673828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyLiliy/pseuds/GreyLiliy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two weeks after discovering her husband had been cheating on her, Elita has decided she needs a distraction to get it off her mind: She’s going to bake cookies. Chromia, no longer hiding “his” intentions of courting, decided Elita deserved a better one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This RP was perfect and I can’t stop thinking about it. *shakes fist*

Chromia stopped, staring at the line of kitchen staff giggling to one another as they made their way down the hall. She kept watching, as Chromia fished her watch out from her vest pocket to double check that the evening hadn’t snuck up on her.

Time indeed hadn’t escaped her: it was only two o’clock. Chromia put her watch away and tapped one of the ladies on the shoulder as they passed.

"Forgive me, but is something going on that I’ve missed?" Chromia asked. She smoothed down her vest front, and smiled. "As the house bodyguard, I’d hate to be out of the loop."

"Oh, no!" The maid shook her head, covering her mouth. She blushed, smiling behind her fingers. "It’s nothing like that, sir. The Madam requested to be alone in the kitchen, and gave us the afternoon off."

"Did she now?" Chromia asked, dipping her head down. "Thank you, kindly."

"Of course, sir," the maid said, bowing a bit before trotting up to join her fellows.

Chromia bit the edge of her lip, and strode down the hall with a mixture of concern and curiosity. Elita alone in the kitchen? Chromia chuckled, picturing the house’s Madam in a cook’s uniform and covered in the dirt of the kitchen—it didn’t suit at all. Chromia picked up her pace, a smile tugging at her lips almost eager to see the unusual sight.

When Chromia came to rest against the door frame of the kitchen, Elita was setting a stack of bowls on the middle kitchen table, among a variety of bags and measuring devices. She looked out of place in the dull surroundings with her hair up, and her fashionable dress; a pretty flower sticking out from a bed of weeds.

She was beautiful, but Chromia already knew that.

"When was the last time you were in your own kitchen?" Chromia asked, licking the back of her teeth.

"When I was twelve and in my parent’s house," Elita replied, not missing a beat as she separated the bowls on the counter. Chromia grinned; Elita hadn’t even flinched in surprise. Elita sent a haughty smile over her shoulder. "Our head maid showed me how to make cinnamon sugar cookies."

"You think you remember all that after ten years?" Chromia asked, rolling up her sleeves as she entered the kitchen and shut the door behind her. Chromia leaned on the table next to Elita and smiled up. "Might be a little rusty in the kitchen, but I’m more than happy to help."

"While I appreciate the offer," Elita said, turning up her nose. She pulled a slip of paper over from behind the sugar bag and held it up. "But I have a recipe."

"So you do," Chromia said, plucking it out of Elita’s petite fingers. She licked the side of her lips, looking down the ingredient list. Chromia waved at the table and cooking supplies and then over to Eilta. "What brought this on?"

"I felt like it," Elita said, looking down at the table and dropping her shoulders. She squeezed the edge of the bowl’s rim, and her eyes glazed over for a second, glaring too hard at the bag of sugar. She bit her lip, angry at something Chromia was willing to bet wasn’t the sugar. "It’s my kitchen. I can bake if I want to."

"Of course you can." Chromia placed the paper down on the counter. "And I would love to try whatever you end up baking, if you’ll allow it."

"Good, because I’m planning on making a lot of cookies," Elita said. She leaned over the table to put a bowl next to each dry ingredient, and frowned at her sleeve when it dropped into the nearest one. She huffed, and rolled it up. Elita pushed her skirt down, and sighed. "I should have borrowed a dress."

"No, I think you’ll be okay with rolled sleeves," Chromia said. She pushed off the table and walked to the other side of the kitchen. Chromia dug out an apron and returned to stand directly behind Elita. Chromia wrapped her arms around the petite woman’s waist, relishing the sudden gasp of breath, and pulled the apron around to tie in the back. Chromia whispered in her ear, "But you might want this."

"Yes," Elita said, swallowing hard. Chromia sucked in a breath of her own, when Elita answered with a raspy, "Thank you."

"I’m here to serve," Chromia answered, ticking a point in her head for the red blush across Elita’s cheek. She pushed the recipe over into Elita’s hand resting on the counter. "And you’re missing the eggs."

Elita tossed a pinch of flour in Chromia’s face.


	2. Chapter 2

Chromia listened to Elita putter around the walk-in pantry for about five minutes before wandering over to help her search for the elusive eggs.

"I know they’re here somewhere!" Elita said, shoving a package of salted meat to the side. She stood up on the tip-toes of her white boots to look at the shelf above. "The maid’s son is so good about picking up the groceries every morning."

"Up here," Chromia said, putting her hand on Elita’s waist and reaching up over her head. Chromia’s chest brushed Elita’s back as she pulled the basket of eggs down from the shelf a foot over the smaller woman’s head. Chromia waved the basket an inch over Elita’s hair. "They were hiding on the top shelf."

"Wretched tall people," Elita huffed, grabbing the egg basket and carrying it out to the kitchen table. Chromia licked her lips, and counted point number two for not being shoved away.  _Progress._  Elita put the basket down and looked at the list again, pursing her far too kissable lips. “I think that’s everything I need.”

Chromia leaned on the table, tugging on a loose strand of the flour bag. “You sure? Sugar, cinnamon, chocolate chips?”

"I’m not putting chocolate in my sugar cookies," Elita said, waving her finger back and forth disapprovingly. "So dropping hints won’t help you, kind sir."

"Aw, shucks," Chromia said, snapping her fingers. She tugged on the strand harder, and the bag ripped open on the bottom in a cascade of flour. Chromia stared at her white hand, as she mumbled, "You got me."

"There’s a basin over there to clean up if you’re dirty already," Elita said, pointing to the pitcher and sink in the corner of the kitchen. She reached over and lifted the flour bag to put it in a bowl to save the counter more mess. Damage contained, Elita pulled over a bag of sugar and a measuring cup. "Stop making a mess in my kitchen."

"Forgive me," Chromia said. She bowed dramatically as she walked backwards to the wash basin, shaking flour loose from her fingers in defiance. "But I’m not wearing an apron. It’s destiny that all the mess clings to my clean suit, and avoids you."

"You’re ridiculous," Elita said, pouring the sugar into the bowl. She held onto the larger bag, as her finger went down the list of ingredients.

Chromia saluted Elita, before turning around to wash up properly at the sink. She poured the water into the basin on its iron stand, and rubbed her hands in it. The flour came off in clumping cakes, but her hand was clean. Elita hummed behind her, and the sound of clinking flatware and glass bowls was delightfully domestic. Chromia could listen to that all day—

A rip shot through the air, followed by a yelp and a thump. Chromia whipped around, “Madam!?”

Chromia covered her mouth to smother the laugh that bubbled up against her will. Elita sat on the floor, covered head to toe in a dusting of white sugar. The ripped sugar bag rested neatly on the ground, next to a twisted leg in her torn skirt. A nail sticking out on the table held a sliver of it, and Chromia asked, “Are you alright?”

"I’m fine, just got caught on the table and," Elita sighed heavily as she gathered her skirts to stand, "tripped."

Chromia counted to ten in her head as the flash of pale skin between her pantalettes and socks came into sight. Flecks of sugar clung even there under the layers of fabric and begged—Chromia shook her head and rushed over to help Elita stand.

 _Get it together_ , Chromia ordered herself.

"What was that about destiny and me staying clean?" Elita asked, taking Chromia’s hand as she helped her up. "And my apron?"

"Even the apron doesn’t protect a clumsy madam," Chromia said, brushing off the sugar from Elita’s shoulders. "Did you at least get some in the bowl?"

"Yes, but what a waste," Elita said, picking up the sugar bag. She folded it, and put it onto the table. Elita frowned, twisting the edge of the fabric between her fingers. "Sugar is in rare supply these days."

"I hate to be callous," Chromia said, "but it’s not like you can’t afford it."

"That is very callous," Elita said, tapping Chromia on the nose, leaving a smear of sugar in its wake. "You shouldn’t be wasteful, because you never know when it’ll be gone."

"That’s true," Chromia said. She rubbed the sugar off her face, and licked it off her finger. Chromia rested her cheek in her hand, watching Elita re-sort her things on the counter. The woman moved with grace, even when rescuing utensils from an explosion of sugar. Chromia swallowed, "Could be gone as soon as tomorrow."

Elita hummed in agreement.

Chromia watched Elita work in silence, only moving once to help her knead and flatten the dough properly. Otherwise, Chromia stayed out of the way, letting Elita work her frustrations out with cookie cutters and a greased pan. She thought, during all of this. About what had Elita making desserts like a servant, about time and how long a bodyguard may even be needed.

About the sugar that dusted Elita’s skin.

"Would you keep time, please?" Elita asked, pushing the tray of prepared cookies into the oven. She closed the iron door, and rubbed her hands on the front of the apron. "You’ve got a watch, and they should only be in for fifteen minutes or so."

"Of course," Chromia said, checking the silver watch. She rolled it in her fingers, and looked up again.

Fifteen minutes was plenty of time.

Chromia put the watch on the counter next to Elita, the face turned up and numbers clear. She tugged on the tie of Elita’s apron and pulled it off, letting it fall on the ground in a heap. Chromia took hold of Elita’s waist with both hands, and turned the woman to face her.

Elita’s lips parted, and Chromia’s heart stopped. There weren’t words for the want Chromia felt holding this perfect creature.

"What are you doing?" Elita asked, almost tired. She put her hands on Chromia’s arms and pushed lightly. "I need to clean up while they bake."

"I know," Chromia said. She squeezed Elita’s waist, and pressed their foreheads together. "I was hoping to help with that."

Elita gasped when Chromia ducked down to suck on her neck, licking up the sugar as if she hadn’t eaten in days. Elita’s grip tightened on Chromia’s arms and she squirmed away, but it only gave Chromia a better angle to kiss away the sugar.

"Chromia, please," Elita said, the words more and more breathy by the moment. "The cookies."

"We have time," Chromia mumbled into the skin. She unbuttoned the top collar of Elita’s dress and kissed farther down to the collar bone. Elita whimpered, and Chromia squeezed her tighter. She sped up her licks and kisses, determined to get every last grandual of sugar. "Plenty of time."

Elita covered her mouth to silence her moans as Chromia rested her knee between Elita’s legs, pushing up the skirt. Chromia pulled her hands away and kissed Elita properly before the chance could be missed. The madam responded, heavy and needy, her nails digging into Chromia’s arms.

The soldier could have stayed like this forever.

"Chromia," Elita said, stern and guilty into the kiss. She pulled away and shoved Chromia’s chest, gasping for air. Elita bit her lip and mumbled, "The cookies."

"Elita, forget the—"

"If they burn I’ll never forgive you!" Elita shouted, smacking Chromia’s chest hard on the side. Elita heaved, her breast rising and falling with each breath. She whispered, "I mean it."

"Okay." Chromia dropped her head to Elita’s shoulder, and inhaled the sweet smell of sugar from her dress. "I understand. I’ll get them."

Elita turned, slipping out from Chromia’s arms and making a line for the sink. She ran her hands through her hair, body trembling. Chromia grabbed her watch, shoving it into her pocket before pulling the cookies from the oven.

They looked good.


	3. Chapter 3

Chromia pushed one of the cookies on the tray with the edge of her finger. She pulled it back with a tiny hiss, and kissed the edge of the reddened finger. The golden brown cookies mocked her with their appealing appearance.

But still too hot.

They were much like the mistress leaning on the sink basin on the other side of the room. Chromia leaned on the counter, watching Elita’s shoulders rise and fall with her breaths. The flush on her face, and the way her throat moved as she swallowed. She was trying to calm down, and failing at it. Elita sniffed, rubbing the back of her neck.

Chromia moved. The cookies could cool down, safe and well on their metal rack, but Chromia wasn’t done yet.

She refused to leave Elita this way.

"Elita," Chromia said, wrapping her arms around the woman’s waist. She kissed the back of Elita’s neck and inhaled the scent of sugar still dusting Elita’s clothes. Chromia said into her neck, "You’ll need something more than sweets to distract you, and we both know it."

"Distract me from what?" She whispered. Elita shook her head and pushed Chromia’s arms away, spinning around. She glared through wet eyes, and lightly smacked Chromia’s chest with the base of her palm. "I don’t know what you’re talking about. I wanted to make sugar cookies, nothing more."

"Your cravings for cake and cookies used to be saved for when he left on trips, and now you crave them at all hours. You’re even making them yourself!" Chromia shouted. She took Elita’s wrists in her hands and rubbed her thumb in the palm. Chromia squeezed harder as Elita tugged away. "And I don’t think it’s too far-fetched to say he’s to blame for that, too."

Chromia leaned in to kiss Elita again, but she turned her head to the side. Chromia kissed the bottom of her jaw instead. “Elita, please. Let me distract you, so you can stop thinking about him for at least ten minutes.”

"Chromia, we really shouldn’t," Elita said, shaking her head. She trembled, but from want or fear Chromia couldn’t decide, though she sincerely hoped and prayed it was the first. Elita sucked in a heavy breath, her throat thick with the words. "We really shouldn’t do this."

"No," Chromia said, her voice hoarse. She clutched Elita’s face, cradling it between her hands as her fingers touched the tender neckline. Chromia breathed heavily in time with Elita’s. Her own eyes burned, angry at the little tear slipping down Elita’s cheek. A tear Chromia didn’t put there. Chromia hissed, " _He_  shouldn’t have.”

Elita grabbed Chromia’s labels, and dragged her down to smash their lips together. Her hands groped up until her arms were wrapped tight around Chromia’s neck. Elita used her hip to push herself up on the wash basin to get higher, and kiss harder. Chromia returned the favor, and dropped Elita’s face, to grab her hips. That wasn’t good enough; not nearly good enough. Chromia grabbed Elita’s thigh and pulled her up off the ground, and slim legs took the hint and clung around Chromia’s waist.

Chromia stumbled backwards, finding it difficult to concentrate—though by no means complaining—with Elita’s desperate tongue in her mouth. But she did manage, and Chromia turned to dump Elita on the side of the table. The force rattled the kitchen bowls, and knocked over the bag of flour to the floor. A puff of white covered Chromia’s boots and legs, an afterthought at best.

"Wretched tall people," Elita said. She twisted Chromia’s jacket in her hands, popping the top button open. Elita leaned forward and kissed Chromia again, pecking her lips twice after. "You’re standing, and I’m sitting on a table—and just look! Our heads are the same height! It’s not fair at all!"

"Seems convenient to me," Chromia laughed, dropping forward and hugging Elita’s waist, ignoring the sting in her chest at the only other ‘wretched tall person’ Elita would have known this way. Chromia squeezed Elita’s hips, and the woman scooted to the edge of the table, pressing her corset and skirts into Chromia’s chest. "Perfect height."

"To you, maybe," Elita said. She ran her hand over her hair, shoving the loose strands back down onto her head. Elita leaned back, looking at the ceiling for a few seconds, before she pressed her forehead into Chromia’s shoulder. Elita sighed heavily, and squeezed. "What are we doing, Chromia?"

"I don’t know what you’re doing," Chromia said, moving her hand up and down Elita’s side. She slipped her fingers down to Elita’s thigh, and dug her fingers in. "But I’m about to do something stupid."

Elita gawked when Chromia grabbed Elita’s skirt and hiked it up onto the table, revealing Elita’s legs in their white pantalettes. She tried to shove it back down, but Chromia had seen more than enough to map out where her hands needed to go. Chromia shoved a hand under Elita’s skirt, and started to tug down on the top of the underwear, digging down past the layers of fabric.

"Chromia!" Elita shouted, holding the soldier’s shoulders. She squeezed her hips together, but growled when she remembered Chromia’s hips were in the way, acting like a spreader. "Don’t you dare!"

Chromia ignored Elita, and kept searching as she cursed every inch of women’s clothing. “Why do women have so many darned skirts under here?”

"To keep naughty soldiers out," Elita said, clutching tighter to Chromia as the soldier’s hand wandered and teased as it searched. "Didn’t you know!?"

"No, I’m afraid I didn’t," Chromia said. She smirked as her fingers—finally, finally—found their way into soft hair. Chromia cupped and went down, happy with the tiny yelp and smack of Elita’s hand against her shoulder. "Ignorance is bliss in this case, I’d like to think."

"You’re horrible," Elita said. She breathed harder, clutching to Chromia as the fingers searched inside. Elita squeaked and hugged the soldier tighter, practically squeezing the life out of her. "H-horrible."

"Maybe," Chromia said. She kissed Elita hard against the lips, and kept her fingers moving ever deeper, even as a knee knocked hard into her side.


	4. Chapter 4

"Horrible" turned to a mantra of moans and whining pleas of "More, please more" as fingers dug deeper, pressing hard into the soaking flesh between Elita’s thighs.

Maybe it was the forgotten flour on her boots, or the delicious sounds Elita made as she squirmed and wriggled on Chromia’s fingers, but the soldier couldn’t help but feel she was doing pretty well. It certainly justified the grin on her face as Chromia buried her nose into Elita’s hair as the petite woman clutched to her jacket.

Was there anything better than this?

Elita pushed herself to the corner edge of the table, crawling onto Chromia as she stood. Elita tugged Chromia closer with a leg draped over the soldier’s hip. Chromia had to hold Elita’s thigh with her non-occupied hand to keep the woman from falling, the table little more than a back brace.

Elita’s body was burning to the touch, spreading the fever to Chromia’s own insides and pushing their tempo faster and faster. The harder Chromia worked, the hotter it became—You could have baked cookies in Elita’s little oven the way the temperature kept rising.

"What’s so funny?" Elita gasped into Chromia’s neck. She licked the skin, and buried her hand into Chromia’s hair, tugging hard. Elita dug her heel into the back of Chromia’s calf and tried to sound threatening through her heavy breathing. "Y-You’re laughing at me."

Chromia snorted, wincing as her hair was yanked. Had she laughed out loud? Chromia kept her hand at a steady pace as she whispered in Elita’s ear, “You’re so deliriously heated at the moment, I merely wondered if we could bake another batch of cookies with your body heat alone.”

"I can’ t t-tell if that’s worse than laughing at me or not," Elita laughed, biting the soldier’s neck. She hummed and scooted forward farther, making Chromia hold her up completely with one hand. Chromia grunted, and put her adorable bum back on the table. She was small, but that woman was not nearly as light as she wanted Chromia to believe. Elita giggled, settling back into a seat on the table, and scooted her legs open wider. "But if you’re that distracted, maybe I should do something for you?"

"Like what?" Chromia asked, moving her hand up Elita’s thigh and massaging her lower back in time with her other hand. "Should I get on my knees and swap my hand for something else?"

"No!" Elita yelped, shoving at Chromia’s shoulder. She hugged Chromia’s shoulders and nuzzled the side of her cheek. "T-this is just all a bit one-sided, at the moment. Maybe I could do something for you."

Chromia grabbed Elita’s fingers mid-dissent down her chest, and squeezed lightly. Chromia kissed the fingertips, and tried to ignore her own heart skipping beats. “Not today, miss. It’s all about you right now.”

"That isn’t very fair, now is it?" Elita pouted.

"Believe me," Chromia kissed Elita hard, "your pleasure is my pleasure. This is far more than enough."

"I don’t believe you," Elita whispered into Chromia’s lips. Her hips stilled and she massaged the back of Chromia’s head. Elita pressed their lips together, rubbing her heel against the soldier’s leg. "Such an odd man you are, Chromia. You really don’t want me to do anything for you?"

"I’m already getting more than I could ask for," Chromia said. She gently kissed Elita’s eyelid, lingering there. Not now, she thought to herself. Chromia pecked the eyelid again, and put on a cheeky grin. “And if the way you’ve been moaning is any indication, that’s rather proof that I’m pretty damn good at this all on my own. That’s a bit of a reward in itself, isn’t it?”

"Scoundrel!" Elita laughed, smacking Chromia in the shoulder. The jerk dug Chromia’s stilled fingers in deeper, and she gasped, clutching to the jacket once more. Elita glared, "Stop laughing."

"If you want to do the work down there, I could use the break," Chromia said, lazily pushing her fingers in and out.

"Nonsense. You started this Chromia, so you’re going to finish it." Elita put her arm around the soldier’s shoulders, and hiked herself back up to the edge of the table. Chromia grabbed her hip again to keep the stubborn woman from falling to the floor, and grunted at the extra weight. This really wasn’t easy with one hand! Elita smirked and kissed Chromia on the nose. "As you were, soldier."

It seemed sweets weren’t the only thing Elita could be insatiable about.

Another fifteen minutes of hard work and slick skin passed before Chromia earned the cry of satisfaction she normally only heard when Optimus deemed it worthy to spend a night at home. It was every bit as wonderful as the other times Chromia had heard it: a sound of complete and utter ecstasy.

And finally, Chromia could finally memorize it without the muffled filter of a wooden door or wall.

Elita fell forward, a dead weight. She curled around Chromia like a tuckered out child ready to be carried to bed. Her breathing evened as Chromia wiped her hand off on the white pantalettes, and nuzzled the soldier in a pleased heap.

"My legs are jelly," Elita whispered. "I don’t think I can stand."

"Luckily, I never sat down," Chromia replied, petting Elita’s hair down. She flattened out the woman’s skirt over her legs and grinned like fool. "I think I can carry you back."

"Good," Elita said. She shoved off the table with a little jump, throwing her legs in the air and forcing Chromia to catch her bridal style. Elita, the cheeky thing, kicked one foot in the air and tapped Chromia on the nose with her finger. "It’s the least you can do."

"Of course, ma’am," Chromia said, kissing Elita again. There wasn’t a cookie in the world that could taste better than that. Speaking, Chromia thought to herself, she turned them both toward the metal rack and the results of Elita’s hard efforts. "I shall deliver you to your room, than return to make tea and prepare a plate of your famous sugar cookies. How does that sound?"

"Perfect," Elita said. She dropped her head to Chromia’s shoulder, and folder her arms in her lap. "Make it so."

"Yes, ma’am."

Chromia hugged Elita to her chest, and forced her legs to move. She could deal with her own needs later tonight recalling the past hour in detail. For now, though: tea and cookies. Chromia hummed as she reached down to open the door—

"Ow!" A high pitched voice yelped. Chromia heard the thump, and pushed the door farther open to see the maid from earlier sitting on the floor and holding her head. She looked up with a gasp and covered her mouth. "Madam!"

"Moonracer?" Elita asked, her head popping up and covering her mouth. She grabbed Chromia’s lapels, and shifted in the soldier’s hold very aware that she was being carried. "What are you doing down there?"

"I didn’t—I no, wait, I did. I forgot my apron, and then I heard and should have left but I didn’t. No, no, that’s not what I wanted to say, but I, oh. Ma’am," Moonracer said at the end of her rambling. She leapt off the floor and held her hands up. Moonracer fought a grin, trying to look shamed and failing. She clasped her hands together. "I won’t say a word, Ma’am. Not a peep."

Elita nodded slowly, tensing. Chromia bit her lip, trying not to laugh at the scrambling and blushing maid.

"Not a peep!" Moonracer shouted, before gathering her skirts and running away as fast as she could.

"You know every member of your staff is going to know that I took you properly in the kitchen within the hour, don’t you?" Chromia said, stepping into the hallway.

Elita groaned, covering her face and sinking into Chromia’s arms. She said into her hands, the voice mumbled and defeated, “Turn around. I want to make another batch of cookies.”

Chromia laughed, leaning down to kiss the back of Elita’s hands. “Only if I get to help again.”


End file.
